


The Scorpion’s Sting

by PMWilkinson721



Category: Are You Afraid of the Dark?, Supernatural
Genre: Beauty and the Beast Elements, Captivity, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Hate to Love, Horror, Magic, Mixed Emotions, Stockholm Syndrome, Supernatural Elements, bet you didn’t know Beauty and the Beast had some Stockholm Syndrome elements didya?, no doubt rating will change with NSFW chapters, some insinuation of non-con, some smut to inevitably come, sorry to ruin your childhood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-01-29 02:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21402391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PMWilkinson721/pseuds/PMWilkinson721
Summary: The Reader is a hunter. Her objective: to defeat the mysterious Mr. Tophat and fulfill her destiny to destroy him. But Mr. Tophat has other plans for his lovely nemesis...The Reader soon finds herself at Mr. Tophat’s mercy, held captive in his lair in some magical and horrific place. But what will happen when destinies go awry? What will happen when the line between monstrosity and humanity becomes blurred?
Relationships: Reader/Marcus Cochrane, Reader/Mr. Tophat
Comments: 30
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am a bad, bad writer who needs to be flogged for neglecting her other precious story babies.
> 
> When a story pops into my consciousness, I feel a compulsion to exorcise it out of me into words. Forgive me for being a slave to this disease of writing.
> 
> This is a totally bizarre world cross-over fic. And NOT suitable for kids, guys. There will be disturbing psychological elements and smut to come. 
> 
> That being said, thank you for indulging my madness.

Diary 30th May:

I know I don’t have much time to write and I don’t want this narrative to be discovered by prying eyes. All I can do is hope that one day when all of this is over, perhaps someone- anyone will know what’s happened to me. 

Rezmorta has retired for the night after passing along the “Master’s” wishes that I sleep well. That son of a bitch. As if I’m his guest and not his prisoner.

And I am a prisoner here.

And I can’t say I can always tell the difference between night and day anymore. It’s always dark outside. Always storming. I’m in a gilded cage, but a cage nonetheless. I don’t know how much of it is real or how much is illusion...

All I know is that I don’t know how to escape. And that I’m at the mercy of a man who is some kind of monster, some kind of magician...

My entire fledgling career as a hunter has led me to this point. The point where I have to overcome forces beyond my control. I’ve been groomed my entire life to be the one to defeat the ringmaster of the Carnival of Doom.

The man who calls himself Mr. Tophat.

I know I’m getting ahead of myself and I apologize. Let me help you to understand-

I don’t have any blood family to speak of. I was raised by a lovely woman named Ellen Harvelle and her daughter Jo. Growing up, I was aware that we weren’t biologically family but I didn’t learn the truth about my parents until I was ten. My parents were hunters, part of a fringe society of people who fought to protect others from the things that go bump in the night. They had been killed by a skin walker when I was four and Ellen had taken me in as her own.

I have no idea what a normal childhood consists of, but I doubt it entails witnessing your first demon exorcism at twelve years old. Or staking your first vamp at fifteen. I had received a thorough education about what really lurks behind the curtain of human awareness, and I had been well trained by some of the best hunters in the business. In my “off time” as I guess you could call it, I was a singer and songwriter. It was actually a very convenient hobby. I could travel inconspicuously from town to town whenever there was some ghoulish thing to be exterminated.

But when I turned 21, that’s when the gauntlet fell. I learned that I was the subject of an obscure demonic prophecy. A prophecy that had been concealed from me my entire life, though all the while I had been training for it unawares.

Ellen sat me down one night and finally spilled the secret. I know she wasn’t happy to do it. But apparently there had been signs, omens that something was about to come to pass. I had heard whispers over the years about a haunted carnival that no one could remember clearly, children inexplicably disappearing, the legend of a legacy of evil.

I didn’t know that it had anything to do with me.

Ellen told me that a long-since exorcised demon had taunted the existence of something called the Carnival of Doom. That it’s ringmaster, a mystical character called Mr. Tophat, had been commissioned by Lucifer to enslave countless children over the years. All had vanished without a trace. And the most insidious part of Mr. Tophat’s power was his ability to completely erase the memories of anyone and everyone who had ever set foot in the Carnival. The Carvival would disappear during the night, move on to the next town to victimize, and no one would ever recall its presence.

A group of hunters had investigated the demon’s claim and discovered in some long forgotten archive the prophecy of Mr. Tophat’s downfall. A girl who was once an orphaned child with the ability to resist his control. A descendant of the Carpenter family, allegedly Mr. Tophat’s very first victims.

Y/N Carpenter. Me.

And I wouldn’t have believed it was true...except for the dreams. All my life I had been having dreams about a shadowy circus-like place, leering dead-eyed clowns...and a mysterious man in a top hat laughing. A man whose face I could never see.

I don’t know if they were just dreams or real subconscious memories. Maybe I never will. 

An albatross had suddenly been tied around my neck. I had a mission to defeat a monster from a demon’s fairytale. Ellen explained to me that we had a lead, that I would have a team of hunters to back me up. We needed to infiltrate the carnival when it arrived, find the source of Mr. Tophat’s power wherever it might be, and then destroy it.

But of course things never seem to go to plan in this fucked up profession...

And I suppose we should have known something was wrong. It was as if we had been expected. 

We had surveilled the Carnival from a distance before the gates opened that night. We saw the shadowy figure we believed was Mr. Tophat and where his trailer was located on the grounds.

Dammit I should have known something was wrong...

I remember sitting in the stands in that tent, occasionally marking the whereabouts of the other hunters in my peripheral vision. I remember the lights going out. I remember the heavy, ominous footfalls on the stage as Mr. Tophat emerged into the spotlight from a cloud of fog...

He held down the edge of his hat over his brow as he prowled onto the stage. I saw a tousle of dark wavy curls under the jaunty angle of that brim. I remember Mr. Tophat slowly lifting his chin and revealing an unexpectedly handsome face to my vision. Dark enigmatic eyes locked magnetically with mine as if I was the only other person in the tent. Alarm bells should have been blaring in my mind like air raid sirens, but I was utterly ensnared in that captivating gaze. I felt the shudder of some otherworldly awareness skitter icily up my spine. I remember the tingle of the hair rising on the back of my neck as I sat in stunned silence beholding the man who smiled so roguishly at me. 

The man who would soon become my captor.

His eyes never left mine. “Welcome,” he purred with a maniacal lilt, “to the Carnival of Doom!”

*to be continued...*


	2. Chapter 2

Diary 30th May continued:

So that is how the story started. And how I came to rue the day that I first learned the true tale of the Carnival of Doom.

Seeing Mr. Tophat for the first time stands out so starkly in my memory of that night. An alluring, ethereal vision wreathed in a heady air of evil. He had the charisma of a seasoned performer, so charming up there on that stage that I had no doubt the other patrons had no idea what he truly was. That handsome face and Cheshire smile concealed his true identity...

The Carnival’s “Master of Ceremonies” was a monster.

He certainly looked human enough. Mr. Tophat was a broad-shouldered man, but with a trim athletic build. He was tall, his height further exaggerated by pointy, black-heeled boots. Aside from that infamous black tophat, he wore a sharply tailored red jacket, tie and waistcoat, black striped pants that flashed with tiny golden sequins. But his most compelling accoutrement was his cane. It was long and wooden, highly polished, and ending in a sharp metal point. And at its peak was a orange glass orb clasped in gold that glowed and flickered like a sickly firefly.

“Welcome to all,” he boomed to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, ghouls and goblins, saints and sinners, allies and enemies, those who are lost, and those who never wish to be found...._welcome to the show_.”

He twirled his cane in an arcing parabola then rapped it sharply on the floor. “I cannot promise you a relaxing evening,” he confided dramatically to the crowd, “but I can promise you a _spectacular_ night of thrills and chills. You will find within these grounds the stuff of dreams and nightmares, my dearest friends. You will no doubt see and experience things that will both titillate and terrify you. But just remember...no matter how unbelievable these things might be...” he held out an outstretched palm and counted off the words on his fingers. “It’s _all-part-of-the-show_...”

Mr. Tophat’s audience was completely enthralled. And I was included among those ranks. He moved with an animal’s grace upon the stage, like some slinking predatory cat. He was like a caricature come to life: a living tempest of bombastic gestures and wielding that strange cane like the maestro of an orchestra. 

I wasn’t even fully aware of what he was saying as he continued to speak. I was too fixated on the man himself. All too soon, I was jostled from my preoccupation by thunderous applause around me. Mr. Tophat had raised his gloved hands regarding his attentive audience, “Thank you all for your kind indulgence...” He turned sharply to my direction and his dark eyes met mine once more. His smiled, a saccharine and deadly leer, like candy-coated arsenic. “And I sincerely hope you will all _enjoy your stay with us tonight_...”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I felt exposed and off-kilter, as if his knowing magnetic gaze was a spotlight upon me. There was a rumbling hum, a inferno of blinding flames, and then tent was plunged into darkness. When the lights flickered back on again, Mr. Tophat had vanished from the stage. 

The audience tittered excitedly and began to make for the exits. As the crowd slowly dispersed, I shook off that bizarre off-kilter feeling. Dismissed it as the shock of realization that I was actually here and that the figure in a top hat who had haunted my childhood dreams was _actually real_. 

The plan was already set to begin. Two of the hunters in our crew were charged with creating the distraction we needed. Their job was to make entry to the trailer housing the main electrical controls for the grounds. Shut off the power and create confusion and panic. Three other hunters including myself would neutralize any security sentries at Mr. Tophat’s trailer and get inside to search for some clues to his power.

We were separated in the whirl of the exiting crowd, but we all knew where to go. And what a spectacle it was to navigate through... 

It was a dark and dreamy atmosphere walking through the smoke-addled pathways amongst the milling customers. There were spindly stilt-walkers creeping along like overgrown spiders, fire-eaters spewing flames into the air. There were towering amusement park rides with flashing lights, grinning masked carnies hawking their games and treats, discordant strains of calliope music.

And everywhere I looked I saw the shades who I knew were Mr. Tophat’s victims: teenagers pale and hollow-eyed, their faces slathered in slapdash clown make-up. They looked like the physical embodiment of soullessness behind the leering red smiles plastered over their mouths. They shuffled along like over-medicated patients in an asylum ward, and god and it was so disturbing to watch.

But I couldn’t afford to be distracted. I had a job to do.

As I skulked through the darkness amongst the scattered travel trailers, my two comrades were nowhere to be seen. I crouched behind a stack of barrels and waited.

But they never arrived.

The lights began powering down with a whine, blackness blanketing the Carnival. A hush fell over the crowds in the distance followed closely by a rising din of anxious and frightened voices. I couldn’t wait any longer. I was time to go, even if I had to do it alone. But as I crept up to Mr. Tophat’s trailer, there was no one in sight. Not the hunters. Not any kind of lurking henchmen. No one.

And the door was unlocked. 

I should have paid more attention to that niggling feeling of wrongness. Perhaps if I had, I wouldn’t be here now. Sitting at this desk writing by candlelight like a character in some goddamn 19th century novel...wondering if I’ll ever see my friends and family again. But I digress-

There was nothing really remarkable inside Mr. Tophat’s trailer. A chintz sofa, a bulbed mirror dressing table, silk covered lamps...

But the was an enormous armoire in the corner with two cabinet doors that stretched from floor to ceiling. They were secured with a single lock that was unlike anything I had ever seen. A single keyhole, large and round.

As I crept closer, I heard the ting of metal falling and looked down to see a golden coin spinning on the floor. I guess I supposed that I had knocked it off the dressing table. I didn’t know that it had been dropped at my feet with intent...

I picked it up. It was cold and heavy in my hand, emblazoned on one side with a grinning skull and on the other was the figure of a scorpion. And despite the oddity of the coin’s appearance, I knew intuitively that it was exactly what I needed. I placed it carefully into the round keyhole of the lock. The armoire shuddered, the lock fell open. I reached for one of the knobs and pulled it, some kind of tingling electrical current running through my fingertips and up my arm.

The door opened into blackness, as if whatever lay beyond was sucking the light out of the room behind me and consuming it. I stepped carefully inside, the air heavy and thick with what I can only describe as _magic_. 

I stretched out my arm ahead of me. There was some kind of door in front of me that I couldn’t make out in the dark. I ran my hand over the smooth wooden surface until I felt a handle. I cranked it down with an ominous creak and it swung into another room.

And holy shit. It was grandest bedroom I had ever set foot in, large and high ceilinged with richly tapestried walls. It was dimly lit, only illuminated by a few gas lamps on the walls that glowed with a ghostly blue hue. The furnishings were opulent and in a style not of this century. There was an enormous four poster bed with black silk curtains. A vanity table with a cushioned stool, an upholstered fainting couch, a writing desk with intricate carvings and filigrees. There was a columned archway to the left that led into another room where I could see a dancing flicker on the walls, light reflected from a crackling fireplace.

I stepped cautiously into the room. This was most definitely some kind of magic. It had to be. There was no way the trailer could house a room with these enormous dimensions. It was so otherworldly, out of place with its outdated furnishings and dim, eerie lighting. It was like the setting of some kind of gothic Mary Shelley novel. I had only taken a few steps inside when I heard the closet door slam behind me. I whirled around, yanked the handle open...

And inside was an ordinary closet full of extraordinary clothing. Fur stoles, fanciful embroidered gowns, a lace chemise, petticoats for god’s sake...

Fuck. My way back out of here was gone. 

I instinctively shoved a hand into the pocket of my jacket for my phone but found it empty. What in the actual fuck?

“Is there anything that madame requires?” came a watery voice from behind me.

I turned slowly, every nerve on edge towards the sound. And what I saw made me gasp with alarm and stumble back.

It was a woman. At least I thought that’s what it was. Her long grey hair fell in haphazard wisps around her head. And god her face. It was completely white, cracked and dry like broken pottery and her eyes- they weren’t really eyes at all. Two opaque orbs stared back at me from sunken sockets, completely black. But they weren’t blacked out like a demon’s eyes. They reminded me a doll’s eyes, lifeless and glassy, reflecting the gloomy light of the room like mirrors.

“Who-who are you?” I stammered. “Wha-what are you?”

The lipless mouth stretched into some semblance of a smile, deepening the cracks in that disquieting face. “Rezmorta, madame. Your ladies maid, madame.” She curtsied low and I could swear I heard something like the squeak of wooden joints. Little puffs of dust scattered from under her skirts and sleeves as she righted herself. “What can I do for you?”

I backed further away. “You can tell me how to get out of here.”

“Oh I’m afraid that’s impossible, madame,” she rattled sweetly. “You are the Master’s guest.”

“The Master?” I asked disbelievingly. But I already knew. It was Mr. Tophat. I had walked right into a goddamn trap.

My eyes darted around the room. There had to be another way out. I saw two ornately carved doors set with large pieces of glass. I could see the night sky behind the raindrops spattering against them. _Outside_.

I ran to the doors and Rezmorta made no move to stop me. As I flung them open, I realized they led to an outdoor half-moon shaped balcony. I was on some kind of second floor but I could see nothing before me but a vast stretch of dark woods. Jesus where the hell was I? 

But escaping out there had to be better than being trapped indoors. I blinked the rain out of my eyes and ran to the balustrade, preparing to climb over it. 

And then I saw them.

Motionless shadowy figures stood sentinel among the trees. But as soon as I swung one leg over the balustrade, they seemed to come to life. Shambling awkwardly towards the balcony and filling the air with unearthly groans. And Jesus I didn’t bother to count them, they were everywhere. As they neared the light spilling out onto the balcony, I could finally make out their features...

Jesus they were _dead things_. Dead but moving with horrific animation. Some had leathery desiccated flesh beneath tattered clothing, others looked like masses of putrid decomposing tissue molded into human form. Some were missing large swathes of skin that exposed fragments of their skeletal frames. Zombies. _These were motherfucking zombies!_

They were encircling the ground beneath the balcony, moaning horribly, retching and rasping. And though they had no hope of reaching me, they still stretched their boney and decaying arms up towards me, gnashed their clattering teeth hungrily.

This couldn’t be real. My entire education in hunting and I had never heard of zombies being a real monster. Wraiths, reapers, skin walkers, vampires, werewolves, but never fucking zombies! It wasn’t scientifically possible. It had to be some kind of illusion.

But the smell. I can’t even describe the foul odor of putrefaction that wafted up to meet me. An oozing, noxious stink of rotting carcasses that invaded my nostrils, nauseating me and making my eyes water. 

I climbed back over the balustrade, gagging and tripping my way back onto the terrace.

Rezmorta was standing at the balcony doorway, clearly unmoved by the nightmarish sounds and stench beneath us. That broken and disjointed smile had not left her face. “We must get you dressed, madame. The Master is awaiting you at dinner.”

*to be continued *


	3. Chapter 3

Diary 30th May continued:

I eyed Rezmorta quizzically as I stumbled past her into the fresher air of the bedroom. “The Master w-what?” I choked.

“The master is awaiting you at dinner. We must get you dressed,” she repeatedly placidly, closing the balcony doors again as if nothing extraordinary had just occurred.

“Dressed?” I coughed.

“Of course, madame. That costume of yours is not suitable for dinner.”

I looked down at my jeans and grey t-shirt. _Costume?!? _I watched as she rattled towards the closet and threw it open, pulling out some garishly ornamented green gown and a handful of frilly underpinnings.

“Absolutely not!” I rasped as my voice returned. “I am not wearing that!”

She turned those frightfully glassy eyes towards me. “But madame...”

“I suppose I’ll just have to be unsuitable then,” I muttered irritably. “And where is ‘dinner’?”

She sighed, a wheezy hollow sound. “The dining room is down the staircase and to the right, madame, but-“

I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I made for the adjoining room with the flickering firelight. It was indeed some kind of sitting room, full of bookcases and ornamental statuary. There was a dusty couch and bearskin rug lying in front of a tall granite fireplace. I didn’t stop to examine the room more thoroughly, but continued to the large double doors I presumed was the exit.

As I stepped out into the hallway, I confirmed that I was indeed on a second floor. Before me was an airy open landing surrounded by a wrought iron railing. I walked to the railing and looked down upon dual curving staircases that led down to a vast marble floored foyer. Directly across from me on the other wing was another dark hallway, and another, and another... It was utterly labyrinthine. The only architecture that didn’t blend with everything else was a columned archway at the top of the stairs that seemed to lead into an enormous ballroom.

Jesus this place was palatial. It was dizzying, chimerical. It felt like a haunted mansion dimly lit by a battalion of those eerie blue gaslights. And it was so silent, quiet as a graveyard except for the ominous grumbling of thunder outside. 

I had tread carefully as I descended the staircase in the semi-darkness. There was a squat little clown standing at the foot of the stairs. I recognized him immediately as the ticket man I had seen at the gate of the Carnival. He wore blacked out glasses so patently similar to Rezmorta’s mirrored eyes. His black lips stretched into a smile as I approached, revealing small jagged teeth. “Please follow me, Miss.”

He led the way down another dark hallway. I followed a pace behind, taking in the strange assortment of art on the walls. There were broken marionettes dangling at odd angles, framed old black and white photographs of sideshow freaks, a faded time-worn banner proclaiming, “_The show to end all shows! One night only!_” 

“Just ahead there, Miss,” drawled the spectacled clown’s voice. He had stopped, gesturing to the end of the corridor. Ahead was a lighted doorway, yawning wide as if waiting to devour me. I moved past him, my footsteps echoing loudly in the silence. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears as all too soon I arrived at the threshold. I released a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding and stepped cautiously to the room.

It was a spacious candlelit dining room dominated by a long black lacquered table set with a twisted golden candelabra..._and Christ there he was_...

Mr. Tophat was reclined in a chair at the far end of the table. He had one hand cradled under his chin with a finger draped over his lips, the other was rotating his cane in a lazy circle into the floor. There was an appraising expression on his face, cryptic amusement in the delicate crinkles around his eyes.

He stood up as I entered, tugging regally on his waistcoat and buttoning his jacket. He inclined his head towards me, a small secret smile ghosting over his lips. “Good evening...I’m so glad you could join me for dinner. This is indeed very, _very_ special night. Bartholomew, please fetch our guest a glass of champagne...”

He turned to his right, and a gargantuan man emerged from the shadows in the corner of the room. He was shaped like a boulder, bald and bearded. He wore an enormous black bell-shaped overcoat, and one of the sleeves had been rolled and pinned to his side. He was missing an arm...

Mr. Tophat moved fluidly to the chair adjacent to his own and pulled it out. “Please have a seat,” he said cordially and flashed a brilliantly white smile. “I promise I don’t bite.”

I stood rooted to the floor. “But maybe I do,” I countered impertinently and he threw his head back and laughed.

“Ahh,” he sighed, as if he had enjoyed a tremendous joke at my expense as he returned to his seat. “Well it would be my pleasure to risk your bite, young lady. Please...” He gestured graciously to the empty chair opposite him.

I walked slowly over to it, keeping an eye on the behemoth Bartholomew as he retrieved a bottle from a serving table and poured two glasses of champagne.

Mr. Tophat was watching me raptly, grinning in self-satisfied delight as I cautiously sat down. It was so surreal to finally behold him up close. He had such an otherworldly aura, but his face was so human. Ruggedly handsome features, a solid chiseled jaw with a cleft on his chin, a small mole on his cheek. I realized those dark eyes were not actually dark at all, but a startling stormy green.

I decided to cut to the chase. “What are you?” I asked frankly, leaning forward to rest my elbows on the tabletop. An effort to make it appear that I was utterly relaxed and unintimidated, though in truth I was as tense as bowstring pulled completely taut. “A trickster? A warlock perhaps? A djinn?”

He chuckled. “Nothing so illustrious as that, my dear.” He sighed melodramatically. “I’m just a poor player, a mere paltry performer..."

“Oh but you are so much more than that, aren’t you?” I pressed keenly.

“You flatter me,” he remarked glibly, waving away the question like smoke. “But enough about me, let’s talk about you. _Y/N Carpenter_....” he said my name slowly and grinned at my stunned expression. “Oh yes, I’ve been expecting you for quite some time. The girl who will portend the destruction of my Carnival.” He rotated his cane between his fingers and fixed me with that penetrating gaze. “Though I must admit,” he continued smoothly. “I didn’t expect you to be...such an attractive young woman.”

“You flatter me,” I echoed him curtly.

He chuckled heartily again, as if my demeanor was a source of great entertainment to him. “And imagine my surprise when my beautiful little nemesis came with _hunters_ in tow,” he emphasized the word disdainfully. “How very unfortunate.”

“And what’s happened to them? Where are they?”

“They’ve been taken care of,” he smirked darkly. “But don’t worry your pretty little head. They haven’t been harmed very much, and in fact they won’t even remember this night.”

“Congratulations,” I huffed. “So you managed to sidestep your hunters. Now what? Why am I here now?”

“Well you know what they say,” he mused airily. “You should keep your friends close, and your enemies closer...” His eyes twinkled with mirth. “In this case I think I should keep my enemy much, _much_ closer.”

I swallowed, the full dread of realization hitting me full in the face. This grandiose mansion was my prison cell...

Bartholomew was meanwhile balancing two large silver lidded platters upon his arm and placing them on the table before us. He lifted the lid of Mr. Tophat’s platter and I jerked my arms away from the table in alarm. A swarm of black scorpions was wriggling on the plate, spilling onto the tabletop. Mr. Tophat plucked one from the teeming pile, and to my horror he smashed it into his mouth with a crunch.

I recoiled in disgust. He was consuming that hellish creature with zest, forcing its still twitching appendages between his lips and devouring it. I was so awestruck with repugnance, it took me a moment to realize that Bartholomew was reaching over me to lift the lid of my platter...

I tensed and drew back in my seat, fully prepared to see more of those odious things writhing before me. But as he pulled off the lid, the plate revealed nothing more extraordinary than a slice of beef roast, a serving of vegetables, some sort of soup in a silver cup. My eyes darted back to Mr. Tophat’s plate. The scorpions were gone. His plate looked as unremarkable as mine..._what the fuck?_

I looked up to see the man watching me closely, chewing his lower lip amusedly between his teeth. He raised a theatrical brow. “Something wrong with your meal, my little hunter? Aren’t you hungry?”

He was toying with me. Parlor tricks and idle flirtatious prattle. I glowered at him. “What magic is this?” I demanded, gesticulating aimlessly about the room. “This place can’t be real.”

He flashed an enigmatic smile. “Oh it’s real enough, my lovely." He tipped his head towards a darkened window and as if on cue, I could hear a faint groan from one of those inhuman things outside. “I most certainly wouldn’t recommend going out...” He shrugged smugly. “That would end rather, well...messily for you.”

My jaw clenched with outrage. “You cannot keep me here forever.”

He took a lazy sip from his champagne glass and waved his wrist dismissively. “Time is a relative concept. Now, then, when, forever, never...none of it matters here. I would suggest you try to enjoy yourself.” He grinned with a giggle of fiendish gaiety. “Think of it as...an extended vacation.”

“You can’t prolong the inevitable, _Mr. Tophat_,” I hissed sarcastically. “You and I have an endgame coming. I will destroy you.”

Anger flashed across his expression for the briefest moment, his smile curling with menace. “I wouldn’t be so sure, darling,” he simpered, a growl bleeding into his voice. “Our fate is not yet set in stone.”

And just like that the menace fell away and his face brightened, his smile charming once more. “I’m confident you will eventually see reason and decide to leave well enough alone,” he continued amiably. “You’ll go your way, I’ll go mine...”

“I won’t let you continue to kidnap children and imprison them in that freak show of yours,” I said firmly, shoving my plate away to emphasize my point. “And I’m not interested in negotiating.”

He suddenly slammed his fist on the table sharply, rattling the tableware and startling me. A look of pure malice twisted his features, his eyes ablaze with fury. But before my brain could even process the fight or flight signals zinging through my body, his face was relaxing serenely and he smiled. “Well then perhaps you’ll have a change of heart...” he said softly. “After a _long_ period of reflection.”

My heart was still hammering against my sternum at the suddenness of his outburst, but somehow I summoned an acceptable amount of defiance. I pushed away from the table wordlessly and stood, turning swiftly on my heels and storming out of the dining room.

“Make yourself at home, my little hunter,” he called delightedly to my retreating back. “You’re welcome to wander wherever you wish...”

I didn’t reply. I could hear his laughter following me out into the dark corridor. 

Son of a bitch.

Of course I fully intended to plot out every nook and cranny in this absurdly grand house. The more I knew about my cage, the better chance I had of finding a way out of it. But I had no intention of doing it on his invitation. I needed to be furtive about it, I needed to do it when I could be sure no watchful eyes were supervising me.

What had really happened to the other hunters in my group? If I had any doubts that our mission wasn’t expected, they were doused as soon as I returned upstairs to the bedroom. _My_ bedroom. Jesus Christ....

There on the bed was my luggage from that shitty motel room outside of town. How it got here I’ll never know, but someone had obviously known where I and the other hunters had been staying.

But I was ecstatic to see the bags. They had all my gear, all my weapons. But of course I was soon disappointed to find that they contained nothing but my change of clothes, my toiletries, my perfume, my song journal... The shotgun, rock salt, stakes, silver chains, holy water, exorcism rites, and pistols were all conspicuously missing. 

I had no weapons. I had no phone. _Goddamnit._

I should have known it could never be that easy...

*to be continued*


	4. Chapter 4

Song journal, date unknown:

** _Nothing here is what it seems,_ **

** _I never knew the devil had eyes so green_ **

** **

** **

Diary 30th May continued:

I paced the bedroom for hours that first night. I opened and closed that damnable closet door innumerable times, as if I expected by some sheer stroke of luck my way out would reappear.

But it didn’t.

Rezmorta had returned shortly after my first tete-a-tete with Mr. Tophat. She brought my silver-lidded dinner with the _Master’s _compliments, but I refused it. A petty repudiation on my part, I know, but it gave me some measure of satisfaction to decline it. 

After she left, I made a thorough assay of my new residence: the sitting room with the dusty couch and fireplace, the bathroom with a tiled shower and deep claw-footed tub. I found another door set into the wall that contained a rickety spiral staircase. I followed it up to a kind of glass-walled hothouse on the roof that contained nothing but the dry skeletons of long dead vegetation in broken planters.

I eventually gave in to the exhaustion of the evening, kicking off my boots and climbing into that enormous four poster bed. I slept deeply and dreamlessly.

I wasn’t even sure it was really morning when I woke. Outside of the windows it was as dark as twilight, a mass of bleak grey miasma. What I presumed was the sun was a pale and colorless haze, smothered in a blanket of black clouds in the sky. But as weak as the sun was, I could at least note it’s origin from the horizon. I could differentiate east and west. Not that the orientation was particularly helpful. In the dim light I could see nothing but trees, as if the mansion had just sprouted into existence out of a vast impenetrable forest.

Rezmorta shambled into the room not long after I woke and insisted on drawing me a bath. I wasn’t particularly keen on the prospect, but I agreed. 

And I did spy something of interest from the bathroom windows...

There was a stone laden pathway from the house down there. A foggy path that disappeared into the trees, but beyond it I could see a tall wrought iron fence and gate. A gate that led to some kind of enormous hedge maze...

A maze that might be a ticket out of this fucking fever-dream place. I would have to see if there was a way to get to that pathway from downstairs. 

I felt surprisingly refreshed after the bath. Ready to take on the day and gather as much intelligence about my prison as possible... 

It wasn’t until I returned to the bedroom to get dressed that I realized my clothes were gone.

I rifled through my bags but found nothing. No jeans, no jacket, no t-shirts, no bra, no panties, no boots or socks. My discarded dirty clothes were no longer on the bed. Rezmorta was standing sedately at the vanity table, watching me with those glassy black eyes.

I eyed her with suspicion. “Where are my clothes?” I demanded.

“Those silly costumes have been disposed of, madame,” she replied sweetly. “Here now, I have a lovely dress prepared for you.” She gestured to a large assortment of clothing items draped over the chaise. 

Oh this rotten manipulative bitch. 

I seethed with disgruntlement as she helped me dress. Of course she had selected the garish green gown she had tried to foist upon me the previous night. It was sleeveless, with a skirt that brushed the floor and embroidered with intricate golden designs. I felt like a goddamn Christmas ornament. And as if that wasn’t enough, there was an entire wardrobe of undergarments to add insult to injury. 

There was a long strapless silk chemise that fit my body like freaking saran wrap, an outrageously uncomfortable corset that shoved my breasts up into a balcony under my neck, a pile of voluminous underskirts that made me wonder how on earth I was going to go pee if the occasion arose, stockings and garters, and a bustle- _a goddamn bustle_ that tied around my waist and made it look like you could serve Sunday tea on top of my ass. 

It was absolutely absurd. I mean good god, how the hell did women used to wear such a ridiculous get up? I was annoyed with the waste of time putting it on. I wanted to start plotting out the house as soon as possible.

“Oh madame, we’ve forgotten your pantaloons,” Rezmorta rattled, holding up a ridiculously frilly garment that reminded me of yoga shorts.

“No, absolutely not,” I quipped. “I draw the line at wearing anything called _pantaloons_, Rezmorta.”

She clasped a hand to that disjointed mouth “Oh but madame! A lady cannot go without pantaloons,” she wheezed in a scandalized tone. As if I was some kind of harlot planning on prancing about the house in a mini skirt with no panties.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not a lady,” I muttered in consternation. “Now what shoes am I supposed to wear with this nightmare?”

Fifteen minutes later I was wobbling carefully downstairs in ridiculously spindly high heels. Rezmorta was still so flustered by my refusal of the pantaloons, that I had to tactfully appease her by allowing her arrange my long hair into what she deemed was an appropriate up-do.

And I had learned one interesting bit of intel from her: Mr. Tophat wasn’t here. 

Rezmorta has offered to bring breakfast to the room, explaining that the _Master_ would not return until later in the evening. I couldn’t know for sure where he was, perhaps with the Carnival as it traveled to its next unsuspecting town. But wherever he was, it wasn’t here in this bizarre fantasy land. Perhaps I could indeed search the mansion surreptitiously. I declined Rezmorta’s offer of breakfast and told her that I’d just like to take a walk around the house.

I hadn’t realized what a daunting mission it would be...

The house was indeed a labyrinth of corridors, made all the more mystifying by the encompassing darkness and blue gaslights that made them all look the same. I decided to begin with what I presumed was the “east wing” downstairs. I found a hallway of guest bedrooms full of cobwebs, a lounge, a bar room with a billiard table. And at the center near the foyer, just beyond a small army of rusted suits of armor, I found the conservatory.

It was floored in broken stone pavers that radiated from a central fountain. The fountain gurgled and spouted sickly green water into a murky and fathomless marble basin. There were rows of rose bushes on every side, but they were unlike anything I had seen before. 

The roses were lush and black as night with brambled vines of thorns as thick as fangs... 

But as strange as they were, they were not the most intriguing thing I observed. From the conservatory windows, I could see that none of those horrific zombie-like creatures were prowling outside. It was a good sign. Perhaps the zombies only appeared to secure the grounds at night? My question was soon answered...

A motley squad of clowns came plodding into my view outside. One tall, one short, one heavy, one gangly... All slathered in black and white face paint like cartoonish ghouls. The short one spied me looking through the window and shot me a sharp-toothed leer....

Then they all stopped and stood looking at me with ravenous smiles, mindless moronic evil in their eyes...

I backed my way out of the conservatory. The implication was clear. While the zombies might be conveniently absent during the day, there would always been some kind of sentries patrolling outside.

I returned to the bedroom to regroup. I needed to rethink my plan. What good would it do me to get outside if I was going to be unarmed and meet resistance?

Rezmorta has laid out a lavish tea time lunch in the sitting room. I was famished, and ate finger sandwiches and fruit until I was full. After lunch I decided to take a look at what secrets the upstairs “west wing” across from me held. But I didn’t get far...

I had only rounded the corner of the first hallway when I stopped in my tracks. Two tall wide-shouldered clowns stood blocking the way. I considered them for a moment. “Excuse me,” I said slowly. “I’d like to get by.”

They didn’t reply. They stared vacantly ahead, unmoving and silent. 

“I’d like to get by,” I said more loudly, as if I could wake them from their stupor.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Miss,” came a gravely voice behind me. I whirled to find the squat spectacled clown beaming at me with his jagged teeth. “This wing is prohibited.”

“Prohibited?” I repeated dubiously. “Why?”

He shrugged casually. “Can’t say, Miss.”

“Well I’d like to see it,” I persisted.

The jagged smile deepened on his face. He flipped up the frame of his black spectacles and I drew back at the sight. Where his eyes should have been were two empty holes, the tissue scarred and leaking milky fluid from the sockets. “We can’t always see what we wish,” he giggled maliciously.

I abandoned my survey of the upstairs west wing. Temporarily at least.

I didn’t know that the evening would hold more potent thrills and chills for me...

The sky had only begun to darken from grey to black when Rezmorta appeared in the bedroom and announced that the _Master_ wished for me to join him in the library for a drink before dinner.

I was sorely tempted to refuse. I could only imagine his delight at seeing me forced to wear this ridiculous dress...

And yet, as much as I hated to admit it, I wanted to see him. A human face, if only a facade. I had my fill of monstrous visages for one day.

I followed Rezmorta’s direction downstairs, to the left, to the last hallway. I found it without difficulty. A high ceilinged room walled entirely in bookshelves. Countless books wherever I looked, ladders to reach them, plush couches on which to read. It was amazing...

“Good evening, Y/N,” came his unmistakable baritone voice from deep in the room. He emerged into my view, one hand on his hip and the other leaning on his cane with exaggerated nonchalance.

He cut a very dashing figure tonight, clad in an entirely black suit and blood red bow tie. Gone was his infamous top hat, his dark wavy hair combed back elegantly from his face.

He stilled for a moment, his lips slightly parted speechlessly as his eyes took me in. “_My lady_,” he exclaimed and then exhaled. “You look absolutely stunning.”

I bristled. “This get-up is absurd.”

He smiled as he approached, his movements lithe and graceful. “And yet it becomes you _so enchantingly_...” He held out his gloved hand, beckoning me to take it.

I eyed it warily for a moment and cautiously placed my hand in his. He brought my knuckles swiftly to his lips and kissed them gently, and I was startled by a strange electric current that seemed to emanate from the touch. It tingled up my hand and into my arm...

But before I could begin to wonder at the bizarre sensation, he was leading me to a enclave amongst the bookshelves with a roaring fireplace, a sweethearts’ couch. 

He released my hand, his eyes roving over my face and then down my dress in a way that made me want to figit uncomfortably. Standing there with him towering over me, I was struck by a maddening variety of things. I caught the scent of some kind of diabolically savory cologne. An animal musk tempered with amber, sandalwood, something sweet like vanilla. And beneath it a lurking, smokey tang of brimstone...

The tailored cut of his suit. The glimmer of gold scorpion cuff links at his wrist. The small smile on his plush lips. The delicate crinkles around his deep green eyes as he regarded me warmly... 

_Christ, why did he have to look so goddamn alluring and otherworldly?_ But I refused to allow my guard to drop. I had every suspicion that he was a cobra ready to strike...

“Would you like to sit down?” he asked genially.

“I don’t know that I can,” I muttered. “This bustle may not fit on the seat.”

He laughed heartily as he moved to a side table. “Then at the very least I can offer you a drink, little hunter. I watched as he poured two decanters of some dark concoction from a brandy bottle. “Cheers,” he whispered cheerfully as he handed me my glass. 

My eyes fell to his jacket. One of those strange black roses was pinned to his lapel, fanged thorns and all. “Lovely flower,” I commented. “It becomes _you_.” 

“Doesn’t it though?” he replied amusedly. He took a drink from his decanter, his eyes never leaving mine. “_La flor romántica,_” he trilled, in such unexpected and flawless Spanish that I think my lips must have parted in surprise.

He regarded my bewildered expression with enjoyment. “I was born in Cuba, you know,” he offered in explanation. “It was a beautiful country. But I confess that America called to me with the promise of such great opportunity, _corazón_.” The word rolled fluidly off his tongue. 

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes.” He placed his glass on the rim of the fireplace. “A chance to capture the American Dream with both hands. An opportunity to succeed where my father failed...”

I was stunned. Had Mr. Tophat actually been human once? Was he still human now?

“Somehow I can’t picture you growing up anywhere,” I replied flippantly. “I imagine you popping into existence from some hellish dimension.”

“You break my heart, little hunter,” he chuckled indulgently. “You know we’re going to be spending quite a long while together, darling. I think it’s only natural for us to get to know each other, don’t you?”

I took a sip from my glass, considering him over the rim. I didn’t buy it. I didn’t believe he had any intention of revealing the secrets of his origin or the source of his power. He was showing the cards he wanted to show, the rest he planned to play close to the vest. And no doubt he had some aces concealed up his tailored sleeve...

The brandy burned sweetly in my throat. “There is something I’d like to know,” I ventured. “Why is the upper floor on the west wing off limits?

He shrugged indifferently, though his eyes flashed with calculation. “Those are my rooms,” he remarked with a evasively casual tone. “My study, my bedroom.”

“Oh? And here I thought that I could go anywhere I pleased,” I challenged pertly.

He raised a brow gamely at the bait. A darkly suggestive smile curled over his lips in reply. “Are you truly wanting to see _my_ _bedroom_?” He purred, his voice low and whisky warm.

I felt my cheeks heat traitorously at his implication. And shit he must have seen it happen because his eyes lit up with satisfied delight at my discomfiture. It infuriated me how effortlessly he had set me back on my heels. “_No_,” I spat.

“That’s too bad,” he crooned. “It’s been a very, very long time since I’ve...well, _entertained_ a beautiful young woman.”

“And here I would have guessed you were quite the _entertainer_,” I remarked archly.

“I certainly can be,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. His eyes roved over me again, glittering with some provocative and salacious challenge. “That I can assure you...should you ever wish to find out.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I quipped sharply.

He laughed loudly. “Ahh, my little temptress. How you do love to wound me,” he sighed, clutching a hand over his heart, every bit the vaudeville performer. 

I refused to oblige his teasing banter. “Tell me this then, _Mr. Tophat,_” I glowered. “Why do you and your demented minions kidnap children? Is it just Lucifer’s bidding? Or do you feed on them somehow?”

The humor fell from his expression. “_No_,” he countered sharply, as if the very notion was offensive to him. “We don’t feed on the Disappeared.”

“The Disappeared?” I echoed.

But he continued as if I hadn’t spoken, turning to glance thoughtfully into the fire. “We don’t gain our vitality from those lost souls, Y/N. It’s the conscious, animated lives we need. What nourishes us...” he paused, “is their _fear..._” He said the word so silkily, his voice so deep and honey sweet that it made the back of my neck tingle hotly.

“Oh yes, the fear,” he said softly, almost to himself as he stared into the fire. His face turned back to mine and he smiled slowly. An alarmingly manic glint lit his eyes that raised the tiny hairs on the back of my neck.

He was setting his cane aside against the fireplace and advancing on me. His eyes were so aglow with that rabid glee that I instinctively stiffened, my glass falling from my hand to shatter carelessly on the floor. I drew back a step, but I had no room to retreat with the couch behind me. 

“Fear is such a delicious thing, isn’t it?” he whispered as he approached. “And it does such _exciting_ things to the body. The breath quickens, the pupils dilate, the heart pounds...” 

My eyes widened as he closed the small distance between us. We stood toe to tie, chest to chest. I could smell that diabolical cologne invading my lungs, the note of brimstone sharp and drowning out the musky sweetness.

“The body just _hums_ with energy, doesn’t it?” he continued in an madly exhilarated undertone. “Every nerve shudders with tension. Every sense is so _painfully aroused_...”

I didn’t see it coming.

In an eyeblink, he seized a handful of my hair at the back of my scalp, jerking my body flush to his chest. I cried out in surprise and struggled against his hold, but he yanked my head back harshly, his grip as solid as iron. I had no leverage to strike out, my arms were trapped against his torso. I shoved bodily against his chest, to my dismay he was immovable as a brick wall. 

His face was just inches from mine, those fiery green eyes so close, radiating something so dark and dangerous. And god I was certain he could see my pulse hammering in my throat, could hear the shallow pull of breath on my lungs. He held me fast as I writhed, smiling all the while like a spider who had just snared a fly in his web.

From the corner of my eye, I saw his other gloved hand move to hover over the side of my face so maddeningly close. My god, I expected at any moment to feel that iron grip crushing my throat, or to see him suddenly sprout fangs to sink into my neck and drain me to the brink of death like a vampire. My entire body was tensed, awaiting the strike, the attack, _awaiting something!_ _The anticipation was fucking excruciating! _

Leather fingertips landed softly on my cheek, the movement so swift that I flinched and gasped-

“_There_...” he sighed ecstatically. “_The fear_...” He hummed. “_Mmmm_...You see? _Absolutely_ _exquisite_...”

Adrenaline was singing through my veins. The touch had been soft as air, but I was wound so tightly that it shook me more profoundly than any blow. I was angry, embarrassed at my reaction. Some primitive recess of my brain had been electrified, but the survival signals were hopelessly misfiring... 

To my horror, I realized there was something even more disturbing lurking in my subconscious. I was revolted to feel _desire_ simmering insidiously under that anger and embarrassment!

In that moment I was at the mercy of a madman, powerless in the sway of his looming brutality but god...

I positively aflame in his cruel embrace, trapped tightly against his body. Transfixed by those stormy green eyes and wickedly smiling lips, inhaling that heady goddamn magical cologne into my lungs. My face felt hot, my chest tight-

I latched desperately onto my anger and clenched my jaw in defiance. “I’m not interested in being your meal,” I hissed venomously. 

His eyes drifted down to my mouth and he hummed again deeply, a disturbingly seductive sound. I felt his thumb graze delicately over my lower lip. “Oh but the taste of your fear is _particularly delectable, _little hunter. So unique. An absolute delicacy...”

“_Let me go_,” I fumed, jerking in his hold.

His eyes flickered back up to mine. I saw the madness clearing from his gaze like smoke wafting behind glass. He released my hair and I shoved away from him, stumbling in my heels.

He regarded me with such goddamn smug amusement. “Will you join me tonight, _corazón_?” He smiled darkly. “_I would love to have you for dinner..._”

“Go back to hell,” I growled and stormed out of the library. His echoing laughter followed me out of the room for the second goddamn night in a row.

I made up my mind in that moment.

I was going to get the fuck out of here. One way or another...

*to be continued*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had major struggles with this chapter! Please let me know what you think! :)


	5. Chapter 5

Song journal, date unknown:

_ **What are these feelings inside of me?** _

_ **I toss and turn all night in this bed.** _

_ **I can’t take living in this fantasy,** _

_ **Baby, I can’t get you out of my head...** _

Diary 30th May continued:

I slept like shit that night. I was fidgety, antsy and I couldn’t seem to sedate my own wayward body. Maybe it was because I had turned away another dinner service, another petty refusal on my part. But yet I knew it wasn’t just hunger roiling in the pit of my stomach...

I was unsettled. Tense, angry, and utterly incapable of rationalizing the feelings that were twisting my guts into knots.

You have to understand. I had come face to face with countless monsters in my life. I had fought nightmarish things, had come within millimeters of the claws of death on more than one occasion- But nothing, nothing compared to the kind of rush I had been riding in that moment _with_ _him_...

And now that wickedly smiling face taunted me every time I closed my eyes. The faint musky scent of sandalwood, amber and brimstone wafting into my nose like a ghost. It felt like my blood was boiling in my veins, restless heat radiating through my limbs. And in my mind I just couldn’t bring myself to face the reality of that encounter...

It wasn’t just the surge of adrenaline. The heart-pounding rush of anticipating a predator’s attack. The terrible truth was...

It had really turned me on...

I had been caught off guard. Overpowered. Dominated. Every fiber of my being should have been railing in outrage _goddamnit_, not igniting like a bitch in heat. It made absolutely no logical sense. Yes, he was handsome. Yes, he was charming in his own creepy way. Yes, he had animal goddamn magnetism. But for god’s sake, he was a fucking monster! A maniacal lunatic! Some kind of magical fucking predator...

I almost half entertained the notion that he could really be an incubus. An enticing, sexual demon that preyed on damsels in distress. Willing them to succumb to his seduction, ravaging them to exhaustion...

Jesus, I needed to get a grip.

I most certainly wasn’t a damsel in distress. And I certainly wasn’t the kind of girl to be enchanted by a pretty face, gorgeous green eyes, the hum of a low timbre voice, powerful hands on my body...

Motherfuck.

By the time the morning came, I felt about as animated as one of those dead things outside. If you could call in “morning” at all. Another half-twilight miasma of dark stormy skies and rain. Christ, I just knew this place had to be some nightmarish illusion. There wasn’t a place on earth that could storm this much and not just float away like Noah on the Ark.

Rezmorta came creaking into the room like a cog on a grandfather clock and brought me breakfast. I ate and bathed, and then sent her into fits of apoplexy as I refused not only my pantaloons, but my bustle and corset when I dressed. Only then did the little wench finally provide me with something resembling normal panties, thank god.

It was time to do some more exploring. Time to try again to find a chink, however small, in the armor of this house. I was tempted to make another go at the mysterious west wing, but decided that effort would probably prove fruitless for the time being. Perhaps I could find another way over there...

But in the meanwhile, I busied myself with traversing other places on the east wing. I revisited the bar room downstairs with the billiard table. I found that upon closer inspection of the bottles behind the counter, that they ran a gamut of years: a merlot from 1922, a brandy from 1942, a champagne from 1937, and even a bottle of whiskey with a label so faded I couldn’t begin to discern its origin.

Even more intriguing was a curio cabinet set into the far wall. It contained the oddest assortment of curiosities. A murky-eyed mustard gas mask, a brass compass, a frayed cartridge belt, a faded pamphlet proclaiming, “For God! For King and Country! Enlist now!”. Jesus, they were WWI memorabilia items...and they certainly looked old enough to be authentic.

After I left the bar I wandered back upstairs to inspect the ballroom. I had no desire to revisit the conservatory downstairs and be leered at by passing clowns. And I was still too unsettled by the memory of last night to return to the library...

And god I found the ballroom to be a spectacle in itself. A arching ceiling fathoms high, marble floored with windows that offered a vast panorama of the darkened grounds beyond the house. I could see that foggy pathway to the hedge maze that beckoned like a siren. _But dammit, how do I get to it?_

My interest was caught by the dias just a step above the ballroom floor. There was a dusty grand piano, an antique microphone that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Stage Door Canteen, and a gramophone...

I couldn’t resist. I carefully plucked the needle from its carriage and placed it carefully on the record. And to my astonishment it began to spin, a warbling voice rising from the horn:

_**-you’re here at last..** _

_ **Chills run up and down my spine,** _

_ **Aladdin’s lamp is mine...** _

_ **The dream I dreamed was not denied me...** _

_ **Just one look and then I knew,** _

_ **That all I longed for long ago was you...** _

_ _

Holy shit. It was Perry Como and his orchestra. “Long Ago and Far Away”. I recognized it immediately. God, when did that song come out?1944? 1945?

It was such a bizarre coincidence. I had always loved the big band music of the World War Two era, even as a child. Perry Como, Glen Miller, Tommy Dorsey, Bing Crosby- they were all some of my favorites. Ellen used to joke that I probably liked them because I had an old soul...

I sat down on the dusty piano stool completely dumbfounded. I felt an odd transcendental awareness as I sat listening to Perry’s crooning voice. There was something stirring in the back of my mind that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Like trying to catch smoke in your bare hand...

God this place, this house...

It was such a strange amalgamation of time periods: Victorian gothic architecture, old world furnishings, World War One curiosities, World War Two music...

Perhaps Mr. Tophat was an entity far older than I imagined...but yet he spoke of being born in Cuba, of coming to this country to succeed where his father failed...

It was completely mystifying. And I still couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere deep down I already knew the answers that were eluding me. But as tempting as it was to unravel the mystery of this place, of this man, I knew I had to get out of here soon. Every day that passed might mean another another victim, another “Disappeared”...

It was time for a new tactic.

As loathe as I was to subject myself to the unsettling sensations that Mr. Tophat seemed to conjure in me, I needed to make him an offer. A stab in the dark no doubt, but perhaps he would be open to a negotiation...

And I wasn’t going to wait until dinner. It was time to turn the tables. I wasn’t going to come to his invitation, I was going to force him to come mine. 

I returned to my room just as Rezmorta was laying out a lunch service in the sitting room. “Rezmorta, I have a favor to ask...”

I was almost sure I saw those glassy black orbs widen in surprise. “A favor, madame?”

“Yes, please,” I replied evenly. “I’d like you to get a message to- ahem- _the Master_ as soon as possible. Tell him I’d like to have a word,” I smiled sweetly. “At his earliest convenience of course.”

I had no idea where _the Master_ could be or how such a message was going to reach him. But it would be an unexpected overture, and I was certain that his curiosity would be piqued. 

And that wasn’t all. The key to any successful negotiation is confidence and presence, so I decided to pull out all the stops. I needed some suitable armor. 

I selected a dangerously low cut red dress from the closet of confections. I dug my makeup bag out of my luggage and applied a light smattering of makeup. Some eyeliner, some mascara and ruby red lipstick. I kept my hair long and loose and pulled back from my face with a small clip. A spritz of my perfume to my neck and wrists, and I was ready to go to war.

And apparently it didn’t take long for the message to find its target. 

Rezmorta had disappeared with my request only minutes before, but she soon came hobbling back. Her face was a mass of fractures as she smiled. “The Master says he’d be delighted to accommodate you, madame. He wonders if you’d consent to afternoon tea in the dining room?”

I was tempted to laugh out loud. “Yes, I think tea would be lovely.”

I dithered around the bedroom for about an hour. I had no way of knowing if he was already waiting, but being fashionably late would be a wonderfully passive aggressive tactic. When I decided enough time had passed, I checked one last time to make sure I looked carelessly stunning and made my lackadaisical way downstairs.

He was indeed already waiting. He was pouring two cups of tea at the sideboard, his back turned to the doorway. And apparently he was in his own armor too... 

Gone was the dashing black suit from last night. He was back in his red jacket, striped pants and goddamn tophat. The uniform of the Master of Ceremonies. It was as good as war paint.

He didn’t turn around as I entered the room, “I am terribly busy at the moment, Y/N,” he drawled over his shoulder as he poured the tea. “But I must admit I was very curious as to what-“ he turned and stilled, his eyes pouring over me from head to toe.

I suppressed the urge to smirk, smile graciously and brushing my hair back from my shoulder. “Curious as to-“ I repeated, sashaying into the room.

“- what you’d like to discuss...” he finished slowly. He cleared his throat, and then flashed a charming smile as he approached “Well, well, little hunter. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this afternoon?”

He reached for my hand, but as he moved to bring it to his lips, I whisked my fingers out of his grasp. I mirrored his charming smile back at him before prancing past him to retrieve a cup of tea. “I thought you and I should have a chat, _Mr. Tophat_,” I replied coyly. 

“Is that so?” he said, carelessly abandoning his own cup on the dining table to follow my path. 

“Oh yes,” I mused coquettishly, still moving and forcing him to follow me. As if we were two prizefighters circling each other in the ring. “I have a proposal to make.”

“And I would dearly love to hear it,” he simpered.

“Excellent,” I smiled as I paused at the far end of the table. “Please do have a seat.”

He grinned. “Certainly.” He sat down but I remained standing, another little nonverbal power play. He watched me raptly as I took a sip of tea and placed my cup on the table. That penetrating gaze flashed with suspicion even as it ravenously traveled over me. 

“I think it would be in your best interests to let me go,” I began diplomatically. “When you arrive at the next town, just drop me off in the middle of nowhere. That should give you plenty of time to disappear before I pick up your trail again.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Ahh, _mi cazadorita_. Now why would I do that, when I have my _particularly lovely_ little nemesis right here in front of me?”

“More hunters will be coming for me,” I offered, a note of warning in my tone. “It’s only a matter of time, you know. I have family and friends. They won’t forget me.”

“Not blood family,” he countered. “I happen to know that you, my darling, are the last blood descendant in the line of Thomas and Isabel Carpenter.”

I paused, momentarily distracted by the little snippet of intel. _Thomas and Isabel?_

But he didn’t seem to notice my brief lapse. “But don’t allow yourself to be troubled by that unfortunate fact,” he continued. “In that respect, I can sympathize with your situation.” He sighed dramatically. “I am the last of my father’s line as well, you know.”

I shook off the errant comment and regrouped. “I’m making you a solid offer, _Mr. Tophat_,” I said firmly. “Show me the way out of this fantasy land and I’ll give you a two-day head start before I come after you.” I shot him a caustic smile. “Maybe even a week if I’m feeling generous.”

“Nooooo deeeal,” he declared in a sing-song voice. He stood abruptly and I tensed at the sudden movement. “However,” he continued amiably. “I do have a counter offer.”

“Oh course,” I grumbled. “Why didn’t I guess as much.”

He smiled, pulling his lower lip between his teeth, and considering me for a moment. He hummed, strolling slowly around the table towards me. “Tell me Y/N, do you know what makes you _so very_ dangerous to me?"

I shrugged with indifference. “I’m the only person who can resist your power. You can’t control me and you can’t make me forget.”

“Ah,” he held up an index finger. “You can resist my influence, yes. But you don’t have to, you know.” His smile curled with some mysterious treachery as he moved closer. “All that’s required perhaps... is a receptive state of mind.”

“A receptive state of mind?” I scoffed. “And just how pray tell, would you hope to accomplish such a feat?”

“It might require a bit of..._experimentation_, darling.” He stopped before me, just a breath away and I was dismayed to feel my heartbeat quickening in my chest. I was fixated on that handsome face with its beguiling smile. Those terribly green eyes that traveled so hungrily over my body before coming up to lock magnetically with mine.

“If you’ll only allow me to demonstrate...” he whispered with a devilish purr. He held my gaze as he began slowly pulling off his leather gloves. And god with that smoldering stare, the gesture had all the suggestion of an erotic act. As if he was holding my gaze while unbuckling his belt...

And shit those dark eyes were looking right into me so appraisingly and I was terrified that he could see something of my lustful thoughts written on my face. I was pinned to the spot and _goddamnit_ I could feel my cheeks heating in a panicked blush. 

“So...” I hummed skeptically, belying the tendrils of arousal simmering under my skin. “I’m supposed to somehow allow you control over my mind. And then what? Just hope that you’ll set me free?”

He smiled, raising both of his now bare hands to hover at either side of my cheeks. “All you have to do...” he whispered soothingly, as if to a skittish horse “..is relax, my little hunter...”

His fingertips landed lightly on my jaw, my cheekbones, just below my ear... I felt that strange electric current in the touch, that same galvanic tingling when he has kissed my hand the previous evening...I_ mean Jesus, what the hell is that?_

But it was more than that sensation. There was a warm, dreamy feeling looming around the edges of my consciousness. A beatific euphoria that was so alluring, but seemed to be hovering just outside of my grasp. As I tried to focus on it, I found myself caring less and less about the obvious danger of this scenario. My attention felt cloudy, muddled...I was drowning in those stormy green eyes that seemed to glow with some impending triumph. 

“Yes, _querida_,” I heard his voice whisper softly as if from far away. “Just let go, just let me in,” he murmured. “This will all be just a bad dream...”

_A bad dream?_

_A bad dream..._

Something was surfacing through the haze of euphoria cascading over me...

Strains of calliope music soft at first and then getting louder, staccato flashes of colorful lights filled my vision, a burst of flames, and a disembodied voice, _Don’t worry. There’s nothing to be afraid of, Y/N_... And _oh god it was my mother’s voice_ I was so sure of it, but that was _impossible!_\- A whirl of circling movement I couldn’t make out, children laughing, a cacophonous boom and screech of metal, and then screaming..._screaming...screaming...loud, so loud! It was ringing in my ears-Stop, stop, stop!!!_

I heard myself cry out and in an instant it was as if the spell was broken, realization flooding over me. “No!” I gasped, jerking away from him in alarm. I could still hear the echoes in my ears, my head still swimming dizzyingly. _Christ Almighty, what the fuck had happened? And w__hat the hell was I thinking letting him get so close again?!?_

But as I looked up at his face, I was surprised to see something like alarm in his expression too. Those stormy green eyes were wide and apprehensive. He swallowed hard and recovered himself quickly, the look disappearing from his face so fast I almost half believed I hadn’t actually seen it. 

He frowned consolingly, an exaggerated caricature of penitence. “Oh but you are very resistant aren’t you, little hunter? That’s a shame really. But,” he smiled. “My offer is genuine, I can assure you.”

“I don’t trust you,” I growled. “And I can assure _you_, my offer is just as genuine. Release me now before you’re up to your hips in more hunters.”

He chuckled, turning away from me to pull his gloves back onto his hands. “I think I’ll take my chances, my lovely.” He tossed me a playful grin as he retrieved his cane from the sideboard. “I’d love to stay and chat, but there are so many things to be done before the show tonight.”

My mouth fell open. “The show? There is a show tonight?!?”

_Shit!_ I thought I would have more time before the Carnival descended on its next victim town. _Goddamnit another hapless kid was going to go missing!!! Tonight!!!_

He twirled his cane with a flourish as he breezed past me to the door. “Most certainly, _corazón_.” He graced me with one last lascivious glance before he turned to leave. “The show must always go on!” he trilled over his shoulder with a fiendish chuckle. 

I watched him go, willing my still rabbiting pulse under control...

Fuck this. Something had to be done tonight. I may have been powerless to do anything about the Carnival from my prison, but I could do something...I had to make a break for it and get out of here. Tonight.

_Show time? You’re goddamn right it is..._

*to be continued...*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was becoming a super long chapter, so I decided to break it up. The next chapter is coming soon! :) Your thoughts are always appreciated!!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting much scarier and steamier. I hope you enjoy... ;)

Diary 30th May continued:

I stormed back up to my room, my mind a whirl of disjointed thoughts. I needed a game plan. An immediate one. It’s never a wise move to fly by the seat of your pants, but I didn’t see that I had much choice...

I needed to get to that foggy path and hedge maze. It was the only thing that remotely resembled a way out of the surrounding woods. I hadn’t yet found an exit downstairs. There had to be one, maybe more than one, but it was hidden somewhere in the quagmire of dark corridors.

That only left the upstairs...

I had a balcony.

Yes, there were those awful zombie things outside at night. Yes, there were bands of creepy clowns marauding about during the day...

But was there ever a time when the coast was clear? Was there ever a “changing of the guard”? If there was one, it would have to be in those precious few minutes of time between night and day...

It was worth a shot.

Rezmorta was waiting for me when I arrived back at my bedroom. I needed to get her out of the picture. One less pair of prying eyes. I dismissed her with a mostly truthful tale that hadn’t slept well last night, that I was overwrought, and that I was planning to go to sleep early. I asked not to be disturbed for the rest of the evening, and thankfully she acquiesced without question.

And for the next couple of hours I paced the bedroom, glancing out the windows. Marking each minute by how the dim twilight began to darken. 

It was time to prepare for my daring escape. I stripped off my gown and underskirts. Christ, these ridiculous clothes were a detriment. The entire wardrobe was essentially a ball and chain! No one could move with any speed or stealth in this kind of attire. More than ever I mourned the loss of my jeans and boots.

A long white chemise slip and panties was hardly the clothing I would have selected for this kind of escapade. And certainly white would be too eye-catching in the dark. Thankfully I found a dark blue dressing robe in the closet, floor length with a sash at the waist. That would provide adequate concealment. Slippers would have to do also. There was no conceivable way I could run in the heels.

Luck was apparently on my side for the moment. The rain had ceased enough for me to discern the nuances of darkness in the sky. I locked the bedroom door just for peace of mind and quietly headed out the double doorway to the balcony.

It was preternaturally silent. Darkness was rapidly beginning to fall now. I cautiously approached the balustrade and wanted to leap with excitement when I realized there were no lurking shadows in the tree line. At least not yet.

_Let’s do this..._

There was a lip on the side of the house that ran the length of the second floor. It was set into the masonry of the stone work, only a few scant inches wide. I would have to hug onto the side of the house for dear life, but I thought I could make it work. But I certainly couldn’t afford any missteps. One wayward sway and I’d have a horrific fall...

I hiked up my robe and chemise and swung a leg over the balustrade. My ears were perked for any answering rustle of movement. But there was none...

I very, _very_ carefully stretched out my leg and settled my weight onto the lip of stone moulding. Yes, I could do this. But Christ how far would I have to go before I reached the north side of the house? As far as I could tell, that was the destination I needed to reach in order to find the route to the hedge maze.

The journey seemed to take an interminable amount of time. Every step was a risk, every window I crossed filled me with worry of being discovered. Every moment that passed increased my fear that I would suddenly hear a shout or the shuffling of undead feet below me.

It was a blessing when I finally arrived at a corner in the architecture. As I shimmied over the corner I saw colossally high windows. This was a part of the house I hadn’t yet discovered...

Peering down through the dark glass, it looked like an arboretum or a hothouse. But there was an enormous indoor pool or pond inside it. But that wasn’t the remarkable thing. The remarkable thing was that it was ensconced on the outside with sturdy wooden trellises and vines. Trellises that could very conveniently be utilized as a ladder down to the ground.

I was so amazed at my good fortune, I wanted to screech with delight. But I obviously didn’t have a death wish...

I clambered down the nearest trellis as quickly and silently as I could. It was so uncanny to finally stand on solid ground outside that goddamn house. A glimmer of hope was finally blooming in my chest. But I didn’t dare dwell on it. I had a long way to go until I could breathe easy and I didn’t have the faintest clue what dangers were in store for me now.

The darkness was becoming heavy and oppressive. The surrounding woods remained balefully still and silent. I made my way around the arboretum and then _oh holy fuck_ I could see the foggy pathway up ahead...

Desperation quickened my pace. I tore through the wisps of fog, every sense on high alert for the first foreign sound or movement to reach me...

I had only set one foot upon the first stone of the pathway when the fucking sky opened up on me.

There was an ear-splitting clap of thunder that scared me right out of my skin. And then a _goddamn monsoon_ of pouring rain began pounding down around me. I was instantly sopping wet, furiously blinking water out of my eyes.

_Motherfuck_.

I started to run.

The pelting rain would only assist in my concealment, but unfortunately it was soaking through the dressing gown and weighing it down. The slippers were soaked too, slapping noisily on the stones. I kicked them off and kept running, the stones cold and hard beneath my bare feet.

I couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead of me, the combination of rain and fog as thick as a blanket now. I nearly ran headfirst into the gate. But thank Christ, here it was. It was high, at least eight feet. Thick wrought iron posts inlaid with intricate curling designs made up the fencing. And it was locked.

Time to climb.

The dressing gown felt as heavy as a wreath of sandbags on my body, hopelessly saturated with rain. I stripped it off and dropped it in a thick pile at my feet. My chemise was saturated too, sticking to my skin uncomfortably and goddamn see-through. Fuck, this was the most inopportune time for a fucking wet chemise contest. But to hell with propriety, I was getting the hell out of this nightmare world.

I anchored my foot in the lowest niche in the framework and began to scramble up the fence.

And then I heard it.

A single resounding clang of something striking metal. Yards away...but from the left or the right? I froze, a horrible feeling of dread rising like bile in my throat. I tightened my grip of the gate.

Another clang. Just as sharp, just as indiscernible in the dark. _But oh god I felt it._ I felt the smallest echo of its vibration in my hands. In the gate. _Oh god what the hell is happening!_

I moved slower now, hand over foot, my movements as furtive as possible. My eyes ceaselessly moving, straining to find the source of the noise in the dark, the fog, the rain...

_Christ! _There it was again, the sound startling me this time. Jesus, it was louder now. Was it moving closer? What was it?!? Metal on metal or-

_Oh fuck me_...

Wood on metal...

The image came into my mind as clear as crystal. The cane- _oh god- his cane!!!_ I knew it in the marrow of my bones.

_Fuck!!! _All bets were off now. There was no point in stealth or quiet. I scrambled over the top of the gate so hurriedly, my foot slipped on a wet rung. The hem of my chemise caught on one of the ornamental curls, tearing into the fabric, teetering me off balance- and I fell with a teeth chattering slam onto the stone pathway below.

My breath flew out of my lungs in a whoosh. My right leg, my hip and my elbow burned painfully with the impact. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. I had to get up. _Oh god-_that clang on the fence again, harder-sharper-closer-_shit!_

I wrenched myself up from the ground, stumbling over my own feet. My chemise has torn halfway up my left thigh. _Fuck it. I could run faster now. But where to go???_

Now standing in front of the hedge maze, I was stymied. Jesus, the hedges were well over six feet tall. And they weren’t ordinary leafy bushes, they were tightly bound in thick brambles of thorny coils. They was no hope of climbing over them if I found myself at a dead end...

There were three open pathways into the maze in front of me. Which one do I choose?

_That terrible, bone-chilling clang on the fence again! _It was close this time. I could almost feel the reverberation in the foggy air around me. And then his voice- _oh god his voice-_

“Little hunter...” it called out in a nastily menacing lilt. _“_Whither have_ you wandered?”_ My thundering heartbeat tripped and restarted. The words were fatally sharp, as edged as blades. Cutting through me and bleeding pure white-hot panic into into my chest.

_Go...go...goddamnit go!!!_

The fight or flight signals finally shot from my brain to my feet and I went sprinting into the middle pathway. And Christ the rain was still pounding down so hard, I could hardly see where I was going. I rounded one corner and then another-a wall of hedge appeared before me so fast, I skidded on the wet stones and fell again. The thorny hedge scoured up my right leg, tearing into the chemise and cutting stinging scratches into my skin. 

I cursed loudly and blundered up to my feet again. I could feel warmth oozing from the stings. I knew I was bleeding, but I didn’t stop to inspect the injuries. I ran the length of the hedge wall until I came to two other pathways. I took the nearest one and kept running-around one corner, a dead end! _Fuck! _I doubled back, took the other pathway and then miraculously found myself looking into some kind of stone courtyard.

The air around me had gone glacially cold. The rain was abating in an ominous way, lightening enough for me to fully view the scene before me...

This wasn’t just a courtyard. This was a graveyard...

There were moldering granite mausoleums to my left and right, covered in those vines of thorny brambles. Ornamental funereal statuary, stone angels with cracked and mutilated wings, misshapen gravestones jutting out of the ground at odd angles like broken teeth. Ahead of me I could see more open pathways of the maze...

But as I started forward, a single sound froze me in my tracks...

A high-pitched giggle, soft and almost child-like...

But it was an abomination. So out of place in this nightmarish scene, that it flooded my veins with ice.

Then there was another. A low grumbling chortle. And another. A skittering chitter of glee. Another. A wheezing phlegmy snicker. The sounds echoed off the stones, bounded off the granite.

_Ahhh Christ, what new hell is this?!?_

And in one nerve splintering moment my question was answered. Fucking clowns began emerging from the hedge pathways before me. I recognized the leering motley crew from outside the conservatory, but there were more-_shit!_-at least a dozen came trudging into view.

Those grinning leers were harsh upon their faces, filled with rapacious delight. They were as sopping wet as I was, and their makeup was smeared and rain-streaked. The skin beneath the paint was a ghoulish pale gangrene. My god these couldn’t be human beings. They were some kind of _creatures _beneath their human facade...

They giggled and chortled with sinister enjoyment as they lecherously ogled me, the shivering and bleeding mess that I was. They began skulking towards me and I started to back away, retreating back towards the hedgeway where I had first emerged.

I heard another sound behind me that dropped my heart into my stomach like a stone. A ululating, rasping groan...

And then smell..._god that smell!_ I hit me full in the face so hard, I wanted to retch. I whirled around fully expecting to see those motherfucking zombies shambling into my only escape route. There was nothing there yet, but I heard them. _God I heard them._ The mingling of agonal moans and sussurating gurgles, the shuffling feet, the sounds of breaking vegetation as they were stalking through the hedges...

I was frozen with horror and indecision. I had nowhere to go. Zombies before me, clown things behind me with god knows what kind of unspeakable violations boding in their smiles...

“My word, little hunter. What _a mess_ you’ve gotten yourself into...”

I whipped around at the sound of Mr. Tophat’s voice. And there he was, leaning casually against a gravestone a few feet away. He was looking down at his cane as he rotated it in a lazy circle into the ground. _Jesus Christ, where did he come from_? He was miraculously dry, not a single hair mussed, not a single drop of rain on his sharply tailored jacket.

The clowns had apparently halted in deference. They looked between him and me like attack dogs awaiting their master’s signal.

“You could catch your death out here, you know?” he chuckled grimly at his own humor, still staring down at his cane.

I watched with bated breath as he suddenly gripped it tightly and slammed the point down into the paving with loud crack. He looked up at me then, malevolent mirth gleaming in his eyes. Pushing off of the gravestone, he prowled over to me, danger telegraphed in every movement of his body. 

He stopped barely a foot away. His eyes raked slowly over my body and I was painfully aware of how vulnerable I felt in my tattered torn chemise, woefully translucent and plastered wetly to my body. I crossed my arms over my breasts, hugging my shoulders, shivering with either cold or fear I’ll never know.

“I must commend your bravery,” he rumbled, an edge of looming violence in his tone. “However it is _very foolish_ of you to be out here all alone...” He cast a glance to his slavering clown minions, before looking back at me. A twisted, malicious smile tightened over his lips. “Such a pretty young woman... _anything_ could happen to you,” he mused darkly. 

The clowns began to titter grotesquely and I swallowed down a wave of nausea.

“I’ll tell you what,” his eyes brightened maniacally. “I’ll give you a fair chance...” He patted down the front pockets of his jacket and pants with theatrical frown. “Ah, yes!” he exclaimed, whipping off his tophat. He reached inside it and snatched out a gold coin with all the pomp of a magic trick. 

That same fucking coin that had landed me in this hellish pipe-dream world in the first place...

He spun the coin between his fingers. “Heads?” He presented the skull. “Or tails?” He spun it to the scorpion. “If you win, you are free to leave right this very moment.”

“And if I lose?” I quipped tightly.

He grimaced, but his eyes flashed with humor. “Then I’m afraid you’ll have another more perilous choice to make after that, my dear.”

“Fine,” I growled. And I _just knew _this was all just an elaborate ruse. A joke at my expense. But regardless, I didn’t see that I had much choice at the moment other than to indulge the cruel jest. “Tails then.”

His smile was a dagger, shining and sharp. He rolled the coin dramatically in his fingers and then flipped it high in the air. Catching it with an effortless twist of his wrist, he clasped it tightly in his hand. As if it was a sparrow that might suddenly fly up and escape his fist. He grinned darkly as he unfurled his fingers one by one like a flower blooming from his hand...

The grinning skull flashed mockingly from the coin’s face. 

He sighed dramatically as he looked down upon it. “Ahhh...too bad, my lovely. The house always seems to win when death is in the gamble, doesn’t it?”

His pouting mouth was a mask of artificial sympathy. “Well then it appears you now have another choice to make, my foolish darling,” he continued. “But hope is not completely lost. You can take your chances with the rotters...” He tilted his head to the right. “Face the depravity of the footmen...” He tilted his head to the clowns. “Or, you can come with me...” He held out a gloved hand, his malicious smile curling with self-assured conquest.

“You son of a bitch,” I seethed, my voice hoarse with rage.

“Tick! Tock! No stalling, now! Time to choose, _querida_!” he mocked smugly, beckoning my hand with wiggling fingers.

I had no choice. _Goddamnit, he knew I had no choice. _But he sure as fuck wasn't going to miss an opportunity to put on a show...

I angrily shoved my hand into his, and in an eyeblink he jerked me bodily to his chest. He wrenched my wrist roughly in his grip and I cried out, hearing the clowns giggling like hyenas behind me. 

“_Let me go, you mother_-“ I yelled, but the epithet was arrested in my mouth as he suddenly bent down and threw me up over his shoulder. I screeched in indignation, struggling madly but he clamped an arm heavily over my flailing legs.

“My, but you are a _fierce little thing_, aren’t you?” he called out loudly, and the clowns responded in fits of hysterics. “That’s a great scream, you know. I hope you’ll use that one later. Come now, darling. Let’s get you sorted out...”

I thrashed in his hold, pushing uselessly against his back. He giggled delightedly and carried me out of the maze the way I came. 

There were no zombies in sight. Not in the hedges, not anywhere on the grounds as we approached the house. “Where are your ‘rotters’ now?” I fumed, still twisting over his shoulder.

He chuckled. “All part of the show, _cazadorita.._.”

Goddamnit. I had been duped. How it was done I’d never know. But no doubt the result would have been the same in any case. The cards were all stacked in his favor here. My only small satisfaction was that my fruitless escapade had pulled him away from the Carnival, if only for a little while. Perhaps it was enough to throw a wrench in his night.

It was hard to see what direction we were walking from my position, but before I knew it we were back in the house. Through a door, into a hallway, and into the library. _There was an exit near the library._ I filed the fact away in my mind.

He suddenly dropped me unceremoniously onto the settee in front of the fireplace and moved to the side table. He set his cane aside, pulled off his tophat and threw it down on the tabletop in a fit of distemper, ran a hand distractedly over his dark hair. I glared after him, wincing at the soreness in my battered elbow and side, my scratched up leg. 

Rezmorta came creaking into the room with a tray of assorted supplies: cloths, bandaging, and some mysterious concoction in a glass bottle. I glared at her too. The little bitch had likely ratted me out on my escape. She said nothing as she set the tray on the couch and toddled out of the room.

I mopped my wild, half-sodden hair out of my face and got to my feet, hobbling closer to the fire. God, I was a mess. Chilled, damp, injured...my escape a complete failure. I didn’t know if I wanted to scream or cry, or both for that matter.

I could feel Mr. Tophat’s eyes on my back as I stood there, arms wrapped around myself as I stared dismally into the flames. I heard the clink of the brandy bottle on a glass, heard him take a noisy swallow, heard his slow footsteps towards me.

I startled when I felt a blanket being wrapped over my shoulders, my wet hair lifted off of my neck. I felt the brush of his suit against my back as he stepped up behind me. He spoke softly, his breath warm on the back of my neck. "Are you alright, darling?” 

I shivered slightly, goosebumps blooming up my arms, and a tingling at the nape of my neck. "I’ll survive," I bit tersely.

He drew in a long breath. "Stubborn girl," he sighed in reply. “Of that I have no doubt.”

“Tell me something,” I said irritably. “Did I ever really stand a chance of getting out of here? Or was this entire horrific adventure tonight orchestrated from the beginning?”

He was silent a moment. I felt his breath on the back of my neck again as if he was trying to capture the last rain-washed remnants of my perfume. He ran his hands over the blanket and up my arms. “You’re a hunter aren’t you?” he whispered at my ear, voice low and velvety smooth. “You spend your every waking moments chasing ghouls and beasties...” 

His hands moved up to my shoulders, the back of his knuckles brushing the sides of my breasts in their path. I could feel the warmth of his body behind me and resisted the urge to sink back into it. “Don’t you like being scared?” he murmured in that same hypnotizing rumble.

His hands splayed over the nape of my neck, little electric tingles flaring from the touch. And I was instantly aware that it wasn’t gloved, but warm bare fingers that caressed my collarbone. The realization made me shudder with some nameless shameful desire. And I wish to god it had been revulsion shuddering through my limbs in that moment. But I wasn’t. _God help me it wasn’t..._

I didn’t answer him. I _couldn’t_ answer him. The tension of that loaded moment coiled so tightly inside me, it seemed to have robbed me of speech. The warmth of his body beckoned so invitingly at my back. And god I just wanted to be enveloped by it, swallowed up in it. _Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me?_

I felt the breeze of his breath at my ear. “Sit,” he commanded quietly. It was enough to jar me out of my thoughts. I turned to see his knowing smile, those bright green eyes glimmering as he held out a hand towards the couch. “Please.”

I clasped the blanket tightly over my shoulders, watching him apprehensively as I limped back to sit on the couch. 

He followed as if to join me, but as I sat down I watched in surprise as he knelt at my feet on the floor. With no preamble he reached for my right leg, and I jerked it back from his grasp. He sighed and shook his head as if I was a wayward child. “Little hunter,” he chastised. “_Let me._”

I stilled, both suspicious and equally curious as he reached out again. He slid the tattered hem of my slip up my right leg and over my knee, the touch as gentle as a lover. He retrieved the mysterious bottle from the tray beside me, uncorked the stopper and then poured some of the dark brown liquid onto a cloth. The tang of iodine wafted into my nose. 

I hissed at the sting as he gently blotted it over the cuts on my leg. He tutted quietly and passed his bare fingertips delicately over the skin next to the scratches. The sting evaporated in the wake of that strange magical current buzzing palely into my flesh. 

I sat bewildered, staring at him outright as he continued to carefully clean my little wounds. It was almost shocking how this nefarious lunatic of a man now could be ministering to me so tenderly. I couldn’t begin to correlate how this was the _same man_ who not minutes before had been _manhandling_ me back into house like my deranged jailer...

God, his changes in temperament seemed to come so fast and so often that I couldn’t hope to predict them. And I certainly couldn’t begin to fathom why or how they happened. The man was as unpredictable as the goddamn monsoon that had resumed outside. He was like a metronome, vacillating from one extreme to the other...

The heavy silence in the room as he continued to tend to my injuries was excruciating. I couldn’t stand it. It was such a surreal feeling to watch him like this. Benevolent, tame and compassionate... “Who _are_ you?” I wondered aloud.

I saw the ghost of a smile pass wanly over his lips but he did not look up from his task. His brow furrowed, a profoundly melancholy expression passing over his face. “I’m whoever the audience needs me to be,” he said, so softly I could hardly make out the words.

“The audience?”

“The carnies, the footmen, the patrons, the shills...” he replied quietly. “They all need me to be something different...”

“I don’t understand.”

He shook his head and didn’t reply for several moments, carefully unwinding a swath of bandaging. “Playing to the soulless ones, that’s not a challenge. The performance is hollow. Simplistic. But _the crowds._..” he muttered, that pale smile warming. “The _shows_...that is the truly heavy crown, little hunter.”

I watched, stunned into silence as he wrapped a length of bandaging over the deepest cut and tied it gently. “I pour my heart and soul out on that stage for every performance, you know. Each and every one,” he continued. “They _need me _to be the magician, the acolyte of all things mysterious and divine. They want to witness something _extraordinary_. They don’t really want to know how the magic happens, they just want to be awed. To be shaken to their core. But there is a price to be paid for that magic...” 

His gaze flickered back up to my eyes. And god it was so unguarded, so raw and assailable that it made something in my chest ache. “It’s a heavier price then they could ever dream to imagine...” he whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor. “But that is who _they need me to be_...”

“But who are you really?” I asked meaningfully.

His eyes flicked back up to mine. Something changed abruptly in those deep green pools, his gaze darkening with such a wolfish predatory look that it fluttered my pulse. 

_Oh Christ, _ _the metronome was making another wild swing..._

In a swift, fluid motion he rose from the floor. Before I could think to react, he was crawling up my body between my knees. I drew back from the advance, but I was immediately pinioned against the back of the couch and trapped between the arms he anchored on either side of my shoulders. 

And then he was lowering his head, pressing his face into my throat and inhaling deeply. “_Who do you need me to be, darling?_” he murmured softly, lips grazing up the side of my neck. 

The brush of his lips over my pulse sent a tantalizing wave of tingles up my throat. My breath quickened and the scent of sandalwood and brimstone flooded inexorably over my senses. And _oh god,_ I could feel the hot tendrils of arousal beginning to flush under my skin. 

“I don’t need you to be anything,” I huffed tightly, my voice a breathy rasp. “What I need is for you to _let me go, goddamnit!_”

“Oh _corazón_,” he hummed silkily. “But I ask so little of you. So very little. All I ask is your obedience, my lovely. Your allegiance...” His lips brushed over the rim of my ear, his voice a soft dangersome growl. “What I wouldn’t give for you to _yield to me_...”

And god the low rumble of his voice at my ear ignited something dark and decadent in the recesses of my mind. It skittered down my spine, spreading scorching heat through my limbs. “I _won’t_,” I gasped, and a terrible needy whine snagged on the word as it left my throat.

He lifted his head sharply at the sound. Like a predator scenting blood. His pupils widened. God, so darkly that they nearly eclipsed the rim of stormy green as they traveled so keenly over my features. I felt exposed, as if the intimate appraisal was him committing every tell-tale indication of surrender to memory. His eyes came to rest on my mouth. “Oh my darling,” he whispered. “But what if _you would?_”

That dark gaze glittered with such dangerous intent. My pulse amped as he inclined his head down to mine, his breath warm on my lips. Every rational part of my brain was berating me to throw him off-_to resist-to fight! _But those voices were drowned out in the pull of my own heavy breath in my ears, the humming of desire in every nerve in my body...

God help me..._I wanted it to happen..._

I felt his hand brush the side of my face and slide up into my hair. He grabbed a handful at the base of my scalp as he swept in and pressed his lips roughly to mine. He swallowed down my startled gasp, sliding his tongue demandingly past my parted lips. And oh god the sensation was electrifying- my lips tingling, my tongue aflame in the taste of his brandy, the savory punch of his hunger, the fervor of his passion. His kiss was fiery, sweet as vanilla and as deadly as venom. A small plaintive moan escaped me and he responded in a heartbeat, snaking an arm around my waist and deepening the kiss. Oh holy fuck...

I had to stop it. I had to stop it. But I couldn’t. _God I couldn’t._ I was utterly intoxicated, drunk on his taste, the warmth of his mouth, the press of his body against mine. And god that electric current was radiating from his lips, the sensation rocketing straight to my core and melting everything in between. I felt my already wet panties dampen with heat alarming fast. I was drowning in his scent, deaf to everything but the pounding of my own pulse in my ears.

He broke the kiss with a breathless groan against my lips. “I don’t want to be your enemy, Y/N. Make me any other thing, I beg of you,” he hissed and scoured his mouth hotly down my neck. “Your ally, your protector, your lover, your slave...”

I couldn’t begin to process his words. My senses seemed to have completely escaped me. Some semi-cognizant part of my mind was screaming at me in a muted buzz, willing me to action. But as I half-heartedly tried to squirm out from under him, he shoved a knee under my thigh, surging his body between my legs. The arm around my waist was yanking me impossibly closer, pressing his pelvis flush with mine.

_And oh god he was hard..._

His cock was straining against the seam of his pants. Thick and throbbing, and pressing insistently against my rapidly soaking panties. And _oh my god_ I just couldn’t help myself. I rolled my hips up into his solid length and _oh fuck_ it was just the right spot...

I mewled helplessly at the delicious friction and his answering growl was so deep I could feel it vibrate through my neck. His hands fell to my hips, grasping them tightly, kneading my fingertips into my trembling skin. He captured my lips ferociously in his mouth, his kiss savage and desperately wild.

“I would give you anything you desire, _mi cazadorita linda_. Name it and it will be yours,” he groaned fiercely against my mouth. “Anything. _Anything_, my darling. Just give me your consent, and I will give you _everything!_” He emphasized his point with a thrust of his hips, grinding the heavy weight of his cock between my legs.

I cried out softly with a shameless moan, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist, my inner walls clenching with want. _God I wanted him so fucking badly in that moment_. I was completely senseless. Dangerously willing to agree to anything he wanted. 

He claimed my mouth in another scorching kiss, groaning low in his throat while he consumed me alive. My hands flew to his hair, raking my fingers into it and willing him _not to stop. Please don’t stop..._

There was a jarring sound of someone clearing their throat loudly. My head whipped over my shoulder to the source of the sound, breaking the hot seal of his kiss and _oh holy shit _there was Bartholomew standing awkwardly in the doorway.

Mr. Tophat huffed out a breathless angry growl and cleared his throat. "This really is the worst possible time for you to interrupt, Bartholomew..." he barked out roughly.

“Apologies, sir...” Bartholomew ventured, eyes agog as he surveyed the scene before him. “The show is about to begin.”

_Oh my god I was mortified!_ The haze of passion was evaporating from my brain, dousing me in a cold and overwhelming shame. And fuck, I was utterly furious with myself! I quickly untangled my legs from around Mr. Tophat’s waist.

But as I looked back to the man himself, I was stunned to see his molten hot gaze already upon me. _And god I was thunderstruck at how good he looked_\- those pupils blown so wide in his deep green eyes, his hair a tousled mess, his clothes disheveled, his plush lips wet and kiss-swollen.

His eyes fell closed as his brushed his mouth over mine, sighing heavily over my lips. “_This conversation isn’t over, corazón_,” he rumbled, his voice enticingly gruff and hoarse. “But unfortunately, duty calls...”

He stole one last urgent kiss and moved to stand, tugging his jacket to rights. He hummed deeply as his eyes roved over me. And Christ I could only imagine what a wanton mess of a picture I looked like on that couch. “Perhaps we can resume our..._negotiations _at a later time?”

_Oh god, he was going to back to the Carnival! The entire god-awful escape hadn’t accomplished anything! Another innocent kid was going to vanish tonight without a trace! _“No!” I exclaimed, scrambling up off the couch. “No, you can’t do this!”

“Oh _mi amor_, I would much, _much rather_ continue this conversation with you,” he groused sweetly, smiling as he retrieved his hat and cane from the sidetable. “Believe me I would, darling. Truly...” 

And ugh, the arrogance of this fucking man! “To hell with the conversation,” I hissed, anger finally-_thankfully_ replacing the desire singing in my veins. “I refuse to let you force another child into your goddamn sideshow!”

His face fell, the smiling crinkles around his eyes fading into lines of misled disappointment. God, he looked almost _hurt_ at my outburst. He frowned, a nettled and infuriatingly patronizing frown. “I’m so sorry that you feel that way, Y/N,” he mused, not looking even fractionally sorry. “However, the show must indeed go on.”

“I won’t allow it,” I challenged hotly. “This _will_ stop. I will find a way.”

He smiled then. A disturbingly hollow and disingenuous grin that did not meet his darkly gleaming eyes. And as he did, two enormous clowns darkened the library doorway as if on cue. Those same two linebacker-sized mutes that guarded the west wing.

“You’ve had a very disquieting evening, my dear,” he continued, his voice suddenly toneless and coldly clinical. “You’ve thrown yourself in harm’s way, inflicted injuries upon yourself...” He fixed me with an indignant and aggrieved look. “I think perhaps for your own safety, you should be confined to your rooms...”

“W-what?!?” I stammered in utter gall at his _goddamn_ _gas-lighting audacity_. “How dare-“ But _shit, _the mute clowns were already plodding towards me with outstretched arms. He shot me one last bitter glance as he put his tophat on and made for the door.

I saw a flash of pale amber light emanating from his cane as he stole from the room. It was the last thing I saw before the goddamn clowns descended on me...

*to be continued...*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a really tough chapter to write. Major struggles! But I hope you enjoyed it!


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